Ciri's Secret
by Queen and Huntress
Summary: ONE SHOT: After Ciri begs Geralt to allow her to accompany him on his next Witcher contract, Geralt is a bit perplexed but sees no reason to object. What he didn't know was that Ciri had a deeper reason for wanting to come. A dark secret she had been harboring for years. Rated M for shameless smut. Set after the timeline of Witcher 3.


The dewy grass shimmered with beads of gold as dawn burned on the horizon. Geralt cracked his eyes open, groaning and glanced over at Ciri. Or where he had expected Ciri should have been.

Her sleeping bag was vacant and the girl was nowhere to be seen. They had pitched camp last night atop a hill at the foot of a broad oak tree. She had insisted on accompanying Geralt on his current Witcher contract – another noonwraith causing trouble around a struggling farm. It wasn't as though Ciri needed the experience and he certainly didn't require help, but she had been so adamant about coming that he had seen no reason to deny her.

With a sigh, Geralt dragged himself to his feet, looking around for some sign of her when his stomach leapt into his chest, strangling his heart.

Ciri was standing beside the tree, leaning softly on one hand. Utterly, strikingly, horrifyingly naked. Her eyes were smoldering as she fixed him with a teasing smile.

"Ciri!" Geralt choked out, staggering back from her. "What are you–?" He stumbled over an exposed root as she stepped toward him, gaining ground. Geralt fought to keep his eyes above her neckline as he recovered his footing, struggling to reclaim some distance. "Put your fucking clothes on."

She sauntered forward, smirking. "No."

His back came up against the tree, impeding him just long enough for Ciri to reach him, and her lips were on his before he could stop her. Geralt kept his hands up to his sides, fighting the carnal desire to touch and explore as a ravenous heat flared in his gut. Ciri's mouth moved against his, her silky warm tongue grazing his bottom lip, coaxing a shattered, hungry breath through his nose. Despite the warning that buzzed beneath the hazy gush of his mind, he felt himself deepening the kiss, his lips moving with hers once before recovering enough sense to break away, sliding out from against the tree.

"Ciri, no," he pleaded, holding his hands up as he backed away. "This isn't right. I'm like a father to you."

"But you're not my father, Geralt. A hot godfather, maybe," she shrugged, smirking impishly, following him step for step.

His heel made contact with another gnarled root, but this time he lost his footing completely. Geralt fell and tried to shuffle back but Ciri was already on him, making quick work of his trouser straps and pulling out his large, stiff cock. Geralt grimaced and cursed his carnal reaction a moment before she took him into her hot mouth and everything melted away.

Geralt exhaled sharply and fell back to the ground, helpless, as she sucked and licked and bobbed her head skillfully, taking more of him down her throat each time. His eyes rolled closed with a groan and he bucked into her, arching back with a grunt as she took him all the way up to the hilt. Mind at odds with his body, he simultaneously wanted to push her away and urge her further, faster down the length of him. But then, too soon, she drew back, the moist warmth gone, and Geralt opened his eyes to find her straddling him, lining his cock up with her entrance.

Fresh panic lanced through the hunger in his core. "Ciri," he pleaded breathlessly, his husky voice thick with lust. He shook his head and tried to clamber back from her. "We really shouldn't–"

She slid down onto his length with a moan and Geralt felt all the fight rush out of him. His mouth hung open as he watched the young woman ride him, the woman he had practically helped raise, hands braced on his hard stomach, bucking and grinding against him relentlessly. Ciri brought two slender fingers to her clit and started rubbing the swollen nub raptly back and forth as she groaned, and the smoldering spark in his core burst into flames.

In one quick motion, Geralt seized her hips and flipped them both over, hooking her legs around his arms, and began ramming into her recklessly with a series of deep, harsh grunts. His pace was relentless and Ciri cried out, her mouth agape in a continuous gasp as she was rocked beneath his force.

"Ugh fuck, yes, Geralt!" she cried out. "Ravage my tight little pussy! Please. Oh, gods, don't hold back. I'm so wet for you."

She dug her fingernails into his back, scraping, wrapping her legs tight around his hips to drive him deeper. Geralt gripped her like a vise and she bit into his shoulder, feeling her walls clench and throb around him as she screamed, her hands clawing his neck.

His assault grew feverish, erratic, her pussy's spasms milking his cock furiously and then with three last vigorous thrusts, his hands dug into her hips and a guttural groan ripped up his throat, his cock spasming as he came hard and deep and powerfully inside her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but sharp gasps and panting as they lied there tangled, stock-still and breathless, his pulse roaring in his ears. As the tight grip of lust began to uncoil, the disturbing reality of what had just happened settled around him like a cold, heavy blanket and Geralt registered it all with a sick knotting of his stomach. Withdrawing from her, he pushed himself to his feet, quickly closing up his trousers and meeting her eyes with a dark scowl.

At first, Geralt could only shake his head, brows knit deep, but finally the strangled words scraped up his throat.

"How could you, Ciri?" he grated out.

"What?" she asked, sitting up and quirking a playful brow. "You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"You're practically my daughter!" he roared.

Ciri blinked, her posture deflating with a frown. She tilted her head. "But I'm _not_ your daughter, Geralt."

"What do you think Yen's gonna do if she finds out? She'll slaughter me."

"Who says she has to know?" Ciri stood finally and Geralt's throat tightened at the effort it took to keep his eyes from wandering. "_I'm_ not going to tell her. Are you?"

She held his gaze with steady poise and finally Geralt released a sharp breath and shook his head, his nostrils flaring.

"You took advantage of me," he growled. She would know what he meant. His mutations, the heightened libido they left him with.

Something in her expression fractured then and her brows pinched together. She took a step toward him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You're right, I shouldn't have gone about it that way. I just–" She sighed. "I've wanted to do that with you for as long as I can remember. I didn't think–"

"No, Ciri, you _didn't_ think." He started to leave but then stopped, half turning to her. "This doesn't happen again," he warned, fixing her with one last glower before stalking off down the hillside.


End file.
